


How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [124]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas, F/M, MSR, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Pre-Episode, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:51:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf





	1. Friday, one week before Christmas

She’d been unusually quiet, the past several days, distracted and more than a little withdrawn. It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize that the anniversary of Emily’s death was fast approaching, that the tragedy of the girl’s too-short life must be inextricably tangled up with the fanfare of Christmas in Scully’s mind.

It might help her to let him share the burden of her grief, at least a little bit, but she wouldn’t want to talk about it at work, not in the fishbowl that was the Domestic Terrorism bullpen. Not for the first time, he cursed the loss of their private office. He tried a couple of times to get her to come out to lunch or grab a drink after work, but she kept begging off for one reason or another.

“C’mon, it’s two-for-one beer night at the Headless Woman,” he tried again that evening, as they were walking to their cars in the parking garage. “I'm buying.”

She sighed. “Mulder--”

“Call it an early Christmas present.” His grin faded when she didn't match it with one of her own, and his shoulders drooped. “Listen, Scully, I… I know you've had a lot on your mind lately, and I think I know why. You're thinking about Emily, aren't you?”

She paused for only a moment before shaking her head. “I’m fine, Mulder. I’m just tired. I’ll see you Monday.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that if you _did_ want to talk about it, that’s okay, too.”

He watched as her stoic mask faltered. Then she looked away from him, blinking. He waited. Her voice was carefully controlled, a nearly imperceptible raspiness in it when she finally continued.

“I can't help but think what this Christmas might have been like if she'd… if she hadn't…”

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug, not giving a damn about who might drive by and see them, and held her until she heaved the big sigh that meant she had regained her composure.

“It just feels wrong, celebrating without her,” she said quietly as she pulled back, looking at the ground. “And I know that's not rational. I mean, she was never with us at Christmas before. And I barely even got a chance to know her. I just…”

“It doesn't have to make sense. You don't have to justify your feelings, Scully.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to ruin Christmas for the rest of my family. My heart’s just not in it this year.”

No wonder she hadn’t wanted to go out. The lights, the decorations, the ubiquitous Christmas music -- they were all nearly impossible to avoid in any public space. He’d been going about it all wrong.

“All right, forget the Headless Woman. Look, if you really do want to be alone, I respect that. But if you want to get your mind off things for a little while, I’ve got beer in the fridge, and I can promise that my apartment is completely devoid of anything resembling holiday cheer.”

Her lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile; now he was on the right track.

“And,” he continued, “since the beers and the venue are on me, you can get the pizza. Forget what I said about Christmas presents. This is just a normal Friday night. Except, for once, we don’t have any reports to work on. So it’s a little better than a normal Friday night, but otherwise unremarkable. Whaddya say?”

“I don’t--” she began, then raised her gaze to look somewhere over his right shoulder as she reconsidered. After a few moments, she took a deep breath, then nodded slowly and met his eyes. “You know what? Yeah. That would be nice.”


	2. Christmas Eve

Things had gotten better over the past week. She still felt the ache of Emily’s absence, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm her. Dinner and drinks at Mulder’s had been nice; it had let her get out of her head for a while, and talking things through, honoring Emily’s memory without having to feel guilty about dampening anyone’s holiday mood, had definitely helped. Afterward, each day had been a little easier than the last.

Until suddenly it was four-thirty in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and she still hadn’t done a bit of Christmas shopping.

There was no getting around it. Everyone would be at her mom’s house the next day, even Charlie and his family, back in the States for the first time in almost two years. What kind of aunt would she be if she turned up without gifts for any of her nephews? And so it was that Scully found herself at the absurdly crowded Pentagon City Mall, after dinnertime on the night before Christmas, determined to embrace the holiday for her family’s sake, but struggling to find the patience to deal with legions of shoppers.

She had just finished her second trip to the car to drop off packages when her phone rang. Mulder’s number was on the caller ID. She frowned. He wouldn’t be calling to wish her a merry Christmas; they’d made an agreement to all but ignore the holiday. She hoped nothing had come up at work.

“Scully,” she said.

“Hey, are you busy?”

She blinked. “Why? What’s going on, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just stumbled upon something interesting, thought you might want to do a little independent investigating with me.”

 _Independent investigating_ sounded like something certain to get them in trouble with Kersh.

“Mulder--”

“It’s nothing work-related, Scully. Besides, we’re both on leave for the next few days, anyway. Kersh can’t possibly get mad at us for whatever we do on our own time.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said dryly.

“Look, if you’re not interested, or you’re busy or whatever, that’s fine. But if you want to come meet me, I’ll be just over the river in Upper Marlboro.”

She sighed. Upper Marlboro wasn’t far, and it _had_ been weeks since they’d looked into anything more interesting than fertilizer shipments and bulk orders of chemicals, all of which were inevitably legitimate. The lure of “something interesting” was hard to ignore.

At the same time, she wanted almost nothing more than to go straight home and crawl into bed once she was done with her shopping. The Scully family always got an early start on Christmas morning, and she would have to be up before dawn to get to her mom’s on time.

“I don’t know, Mulder--”

“I think you’re gonna like this, Scully. And hey, if I’m wrong, you don’t have to stick around. What have you got to lose?”

She looked at her watch and sighed, then fished a piece of paper and a pen from her purse. “All right. Let me just finish up here, and I’ll come meet you when I can. What’s the address?”

After writing down the address and directions he gave her, Scully hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to summon the strength to re-enter the mall for round three.

An hour and a half later, as she stood in yet another seemingly interminable line, this time at the record store, her gaze landed on a bargain bin of VHS tapes beside her. Sitting on top of the pile in the bin was a video called _Martian MVP_ , which appeared to be a campy 1950s sci-fi/football movie, and Scully wondered if it were possible for anything to be more relevant to Mulder’s interests. Again, she remembered their agreement to let the holiday pass without fanfare, but she couldn’t help adding the tape to her basket anyway.

Besides, she could always hang on to it and give it to him sometime after Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Now, um, I know we said we weren’t going to exchange gifts, but, uh… I got you a… little something.”_   
_“Mulder…”_   
_“Merry Christmas.”_   
_“Well, I got you a little something, too.”_

It sounded like a tape when he shook it, so he isn’t at all surprised to find a video beneath the wrapping paper. He grins at the familiar cover; of course he already owns a copy of _Martian MVP_ , but he isn’t about to tell Scully that. Besides, he loaned it to the Gunmen a year or two ago, so it’s not as though he’s watched it recently. But none of that matters; that Scully would see this movie and think of him, would get it for him despite not being in much of a holiday mood this year… _that_ is worth smiling about.

He looks over just in time to see her rip the last of the paper off her gift. It really is just a little something: a tabloid he picked up to flip through while standing in line at the grocery store a few days ago. Scully looks just as perplexed as he’d expected her to, when she unrolls the tabloid in her lap. He chuckles.

“Turn to page 9.”

She does, and he watches her eyes scan the page until she finds the headline.

“ALIEN TOURISTS COME TO EARTH, SEE REAL-LIFE MOBY DICK”

Below the headline is a photo (almost certainly altered, but done fairly well) taken from the deck of a boat -- a large, white whale tail, flipped above the surface of the water, and, hovering in the distance, a blurry UFO.

Scully laughs out loud, which is exactly the reaction he was going for.

“I thought you could frame that, hang it on your wall. Class up your apartment a little.”

She snorts. “You’re right, Mulder. This is exactly what my living room needs.”

She’s smiling at him in that way that makes his 3am, overtired brain take a stutter step, and he flashes what is likely a very dopey grin back at her. After everything they went through tonight, after his ghost hunting expedition nearly got them both killed, she’s here on his couch and she’s smiling and she brought him a present.

Covering a yawn, she reaches forward to set the tabloid on his coffee table, then leans back with what seems like a contented sigh. He shakes the video in his hands and raises his eyebrows.

“You want me to make some coffee? You’ve still got a few hours til the family roll call. We can investigate this rather intriguing piece of cinema you’ve brought me.”

“Actually, I--” She pauses with a sheepish shrug. “Could we maybe skip the coffee, and if I happen to fall asleep during the movie, would that be okay?”

Mock affront shows on his face like a reflex, but he’s secretly pleased. He makes a show of looking at the video’s cover, pointing at the lead actor’s name. “Marshall Turner would roll over in his grave to hear you suggest that his superb acting skills might put you to sleep.”

“Mulder--”

“I’m kidding, Scully. Of course it’s okay.” Damn, he’s a sucker when he’s tired. “You grab a blanket, I’ll pop in the tape and hit the lights.” 

He gets the movie set up, then shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over a chair before returning to the couch and propping his feet on the table. Scully is wrapped in a blanket, shoes off and feet tucked under her, looking as comfortable here as she ever does in her own home. He picks up the remote, hitting play and then reaching over to shut off the lamp. As the opening credits begin to roll, Scully’s head is already relaxed fully back against the couch.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

He smiles into the darkness, knowing without looking that her eyes are slipping closed. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”


End file.
